


Dreams Don't Die

by TrasBen



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Hurt No Comfort, Physical Abuse, Sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrasBen/pseuds/TrasBen
Summary: After years of battling his brother, Nightmare finally manages to capture Dream. He chains him up to his throne so he can revel in his victory, but still can't find true satisfaction.Angry, he lashes out at the one person heloveshates most.(1,000 word chapters about Nightmare's descent into madness)
Relationships: Dream & Nightmare
Comments: 49
Kudos: 78





	1. dreams of happiness

Nightmare's been feeling unsatisfied as of late. Outside of routine raids for supplies, there hasn't been much to do here.

His crew - Dust, Horror, Killer - he knows that they're bored, stuck inside the castle. There isn't much for them to do outside of the stone walls. All that lays beyond them is an empty world.

The fights they have come to expect, the routine, it's all fallen away. 

There's no reason to fight anymore.

Because Nightmare won. He's finally won.

The guardian positivity, Dream, Nightmare's brother.... he's finally defeated him. The golden skeleton now sits by Nightmare's feet, at his throne. He is bound by chains of pure black, made from the same negativity that drips from Nightmare's bones. It keeps him weak. Enough that he can't object or try to escape.

Nightmare spends his victory sitting in that throne day in and day out. He's even made his crew stand in the same room for hours on end, witnesses, an audience for his conquest. For the first few days, it was gratifying. The clinking of chains from when Dream would shift brought fresh waves of triumph through his being. The look in Dream's eye lights, simmering anger and betrayal, was invigorating.

He reveled in how the fight had drained from those eye lights as days went by. Then weeks. And finally months. Three months. It had taken three months.

Dream's defeat had been satisfying for only a fraction of that time.

Maybe it was when Dream stopped attempting to hold himself as tall as he could, instead resorting to leaning against the throne, then slumping over, then laying on the ground as well as he could. Every morning as Nightmare enters the throne room, he gives a sharp kick to Dream's ribs, just to make sure his brother is still alive and suffering.

Or maybe it was when Dream had stop asking for his freedom. When he'd started ignoring Nightmare's presence entirely to try and sleep away his imprisonment.

Perhaps it could have been when Nightmare stopped being able to feel the negativity seeping off of his oh-so precious _good_ brother. When the guardian of positivity's feelings had faded into complete apathy, rendering Nightmare's senses numb to him.

It makes Nightmare _angry_. _Furious_ , even.

Dream is supposed to _suffer_. He's not supposed to sit there as a sad sack of bones and pity, all but dead to the world.

Where is Nightmare's justice? What he deserves? He's the _winner_ , the _victor_. He doesn't know what he wants, though, and that's the most frustrating part.

All this time, Dream has gotten to roll around in all the happiness he could have ever wanted back when they were still guarding the Tree. He'd finally gotten what he'd wished for so badly.

All Nightmare had wanted was a little peace and at least one person who didn't him. Asking for love was too much, but he could do without it. That was Dream's category of influence after all.

He had that now, didn't he?

His castle was the pinnacle of isolation. The only life in this universe outside of himself were the Sanses he'd drug from around the multiverse, and even they knew to fuck off whenever Nightmare was in a mood. It's probably why he hasn't seen any of them for a week. The others are probably hiding away in their rooms, or in Horror's case, the kitchen. Trying to avoid the angry ball of slime that had been pacing the halls lately.

And that same gathering of skeletons, his crew, they didn't hate him. He would feel it if they did.

No, the most they held in their SOULs was unease and fear mixed with respect. Annoyance at times with how demanding or cold he could be, but they got over it.

For some reason Nightmare is still unsatisfied, though.

It's not _enough_. It's _never_ been enough.

Nightmare had thought that once he had Dream, had taken everything that he would finally fill the aching void in his SOUL. The one that's been growing in him since he first ate those cursed apples. He's often wondered if Dream had the same pit in his SOUL. If that golden apple had affected him the same.

But he couldn't. It was obvious in the way he interacted with his friends - those damned Star Sanses - that he was fine. He smiled and laughed and was happy, and when he faced of Nightmare in battle, he was confident and assured.

And Nightmare hated him for it.

He _still_ hates Dream.

Maybe that's the only consolation these days. Dream isn't by his friends' sides, laughing.

Instead, he's by Nightmare's. Trapped once again, forced to feel Nightmare's isolation, the negative concoction of emotions that are like swords stabbing into the younger skeleton's bones. This universe is locked to skeletons like Ink and Blue. They can't enter to help their friend like they usually would.

For the rest of time, Dream is Nightmare's.

He's held him imprisoned for a hundred years before. Now it will be forever.

A grin stretches across Nightmare's face. 

_Forever_. Yes. Dream will be Nightmare's _forever_.

Even if Dream refuses to move or speak ever again, he will be Nightmare's until the multiverse implodes and all that is left is darkness.

And all there is left to do now is to is to sit in his throne and wait for that end to come.

Nightmare drums his phalanges against the arm of his chair and hums. The gentle rattling of chains as Dream's rib cage moves in slow breaths is like music to the ears he doesn't have.

Dream really _is_ too still these days. The only time he ever moves is when Nightmare kicks him to make sure he's not Fallen or otherwise close to Dusting...

Nightmare's teal eye light shifts to where Dream is laying slightly off to the side. He's rattling from the cold.

An even wider grin curls over Nightmare's face.

Maybe all Dream needs is a little _motivation_.


	2. dreams of warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nightmare just wants dream to suffer

Technically, Nightmare doesn’t need to sleep. He’s the former Guardian of Negativity and the current self-proclaimed king of it.

It’s _nice_ , though; Nightmare spent years denying himself happiness, staying silent for the sake of his _brother_ and the pathetic villagers, so now he indulges himself however he pleases. And if he pleases to have a bed that takes up more room than the average Asgore, who will stop him? 

Certainly not Dust, Horror or Killer. And _certainly_ not Dream.

But on the day he decides it’s time to give his _brother_ a little ‘motivation’, he doesn’t sleep through the night. Even more pleasant than the feeling of his expensive, silken sheets are the shivers he gets up his spine when he thinks of a new torture for Dream. To show him.

Forcing Dream to remain chained to his throne had been satisfying for a while. But the entrapment had only been effective for so long. His numbness is enraging to Nightmare, who has fantasized for so long about what victory might be like.

After the first decade or so of facing his _brother_ in regular combat, those fantasies lost their graphic nature and turned to plans of _how_ the capture would be carried out.

Now that Nightmare has Dream ~~_forever_~~ , he looks back through his old notes.

There are so many ideas, contraptions, that would take too much time to procure the resources for or to construct. Nightmare, of course, has access to many workers who could do the grunt work for him. But he’s beyond torture contraptions.

He just wants Dream to _suffer._

* * *

Nightmare can’t hide his sadistic grin when he feels a spark of curiosity from Dream the next morning. It’s the first thing he’s felt in awhile from his _brother_ and although it’s not quite a negative emotion, although Nightmare can’t technically draw power from it, it _energizes_ him.

The curiosity is courtesy of the giant portals Nightmare’s opened up to a random genocide timeline’s Snowdin. The cold air from the alternate universe drifts into the throne room. 

Nightmare’s fairly immune to the cold, but Dream isn’t.

… His subordinates, his boys, aren’t either. But they’re in no position to argue when Nightmare hands them shovels and tells them to get working.

Throughout the day, Nightmare watches with delight as snow slowly piles into his throne room.

He even amuses himself further by occasionally instructing one of his subordinates to dump the snow directly onto or around Dream. The golden skeleton’s chattering teeth are audible, music to Nightmare’s ear-holes.

By the time Dust throws his shovel to the tiled ground of Nightmare’s castle, cursing everything from snow to the castle itself to high-hell, there’s enough snow in the throne room that it’s stopped melting only minutes after it’s brought through the portal.

While the other skeletons remain silent out of fear that Nightmare would take badly to Dust’s little fit, the corrupted skeleton only grins.

“You are dismissed.” He drawls, snapping his phalanges once. The portals close in an instant, leaving the room filled with a few inches of snow.

The ones not chained to his throne scatter, while Nightmare stays behind to have a little chat with his _brother_.

“... Like it?” Nightmare asks cheekily from where he’s sitting on his honored seat. He has to lean over the side to look down on Dream, whose bones are rattling, thin clothes soaked from all the snow that’s been dumped on him. “I stayed up all night thinking about a gift for you, a proper _warm_ welcome.”

There’s no response, only the continued soft rattling.

Nightmare’s smug grin falls at the corners, turning displeased.

“It’s only polite to. _Answer. Your. Host.”_ Nightmare tells his younger _brother,_ his tentacles get restless as they writhe behind him. He taps his phalanges against the arm of his throne impatiently.

But it’s obvious Dream’s not going to speak.

Before Nightmare can fully lose himself to his rage, he squeezes his hand into a fist and sighs. “You’re infuriating, you know.” He says, almost factually, to Dream.

“I’ve never met another being quite as annoying as you. Well, besides Cross, but he’s already run off to that little _Star Sans_ gang of yours - “ Something interesting happens when Nightmare mentions Dream’s little group of friends.

Dream _flinches._

Nightmare pauses. His grin returns to his face.

“Oh, do you miss your friends, _brother_?”

Another flinch. Dream shifts so he’s not facing Nightmare.

_We can’t have that, now can we…?_

Nightmare is nearly beside himself with delight. A tentacle shoots out from his back to grab the largest shackle that contains Dream, the one around his neck. He grabs it roughly and forces Dream into an almost kneeling position, facing him.

“How terribly tragic. You’ll never see them again, you know.” Nightmare taunts, drinking in the jaded hurt on his _brother’_ s face. “They’ll forget you. That idiotic squid probably already has.”

There’s the slightest clench of Dream’s hands at his sides, forming fists. Nightmare drags Dream up higher by the shackle, so their faces are only inches apart.

“ _Pathetic_.” He hisses to his golden twin with glee. “You’re a failure, always have been. Look at you now.”

At this point, Nightmare can hardly help the words that he’s spitting, but they feel so _good_ to let go of.

“You couldn’t save the _tree_ , couldn’t save your precious little _villagers_ , couldn’t save your only _brother - “_ Golden liquid pools on the bottom lids of Dream’s eye sockets, “and now that _he’s_ gone, you can’t save the multiverse from _me.”_

Nightmare waits to see if Dream will do anything, but when he stays silent and still, the older brother drops him back onto the ground. “Useless.”

“...”

“You…” Suddenly, the room is deafening quiet as Dream chokes out a single word before going on, “you’re still… still my... brother.”

That’s…

_That’s not what Nightmare wanted to hear._

He glares down at the pathetic sack of bones in front of him and stands.

_“Lies.”_ Nightmare says. “I never was.”

He leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a long time since i updated this one! it's a little easier to do since i have a (very) general story outline and the chapters are short too.
> 
> hope you enjoyed! leave a comment or somthin!!


	3. dreams of embraces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nightmare's curious about the Most Painful Thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!! there's a whole lotta physical abuse in this chapter!
> 
> it starts at "Life's not fair." and continues to the end of the chapter. i'll have a short summary in the end notes if ya don't wanna read that!

The throne room goes empty for nearly a week after Nightmare’s _chat_ with Dream. Besides for the ‘guardian’ himself.

Nightmare’s been pacing the halls.

As the days pass, rage brews within Nightmare.

Despite being the King of Negativity, the feel of anger _rots_ Nightmare. His SOUL withers under the stress of corruption.The rot fuels the sludge that drips from his body. It’s a pain that Nightmare has ignored over the years.

But his own negativity, his _hatred,_ causes the old pain to flare anew like an infection to a cut.

_Why does it still hurt? He has a castle, a crew..._ **_Dream_ ** _..._

There’s no peace for someone like Nightmare. He’d once thought that he’d accepted this, but the stabbing sensation assaulting his SOUL tells him better.

… To keep from clawing at his own bones, Nightmare paces. He’s practically worn holes in the carpets of his castle, yet continues to walk.

The pain doesn’t **STOP.**

_Infuriating_. This pain is meant for _Dream._ _Dream_ should be suffering. 

It’s **_always_** Nightmare who suffers.

… But Dream isn’t corrupted. He _can't_ suffer like Nightmare does, driven to agony by his own toxic nature.

Nightmare is immune to the cold. To heat. To weapons. His corruption has made it so.

The only thing that can hurt him is _himself_.

_~~(another ‘gift’ of corruption)~~ _

Dream isn’t like that. He’s vulnerable.

Maybe it’s crueler than Nightmare has any right to be, but he wants to show Dream what corruption feels like.

So what is the greatest physical pain one can feel outside of Nightmare’s affliction? Is it having your teeth pulled out one by one? Acid in your eye sockets?

It’s been so long since Nightmare’s had to worry about so much as a stubbed toe…

**_… it’s a good thing he has help._ **

When Nightmare calls his gang into his throne room once again, they stand wearily before him. 

He can read their thoughts, their fears like an open book. They dread more manual labor. They have no idea what chore he will inflict upon them after days of deliberation.

The room, at least, seems to have been cleaned of water to prevent damage. Nightmare would thank his crew if he were inclined towards gratitude.

They stand all in a row, each with their heads pointed down. It sends a malicious pang of glee through Nightmare. But he only has eye lights for one monster in the room at the moment.

For the most part, Nightmare’s gang is loyal. Subservient.

But Dust broke that facade when he’d thrown his shovel down. At the time, Nightmare had been too pleased to deal with it accordingly.

Now he’ll make an example of Dust _while_ doing helpful research.

Nightmare steps towards Dust. The crew shifts uneasily.

“Dust.” Nightmare purrs. The thought of what he’s about to do has him giddy once again, his own pain again falling to the background. “... Do you know that your behavior a few days ago was unacceptable?”

Dust surprises Nightmare when a spark of rebellion flicks from the Sans and he glares up at Nightmare with gritted teeth.

“... yeah, boss.” He grunts.

Inwardly, Nightmare smirks. Outside, his face a mask of indifference.

“I’ve been thinking, however… that perhaps you were right.”

Now Nightmare feels _surprise_ from every SOUL in the room. Oh, how he _wishes_ he could feed on the feeling.

Nightmare continues, “It _was_ unfair of me to have you all work for hours with no break. I give you that.” His indifference then melts into the sharp grin he’s been wearing in his mind all along, “But I must tell you - “ 

The sludge-laden skeleton flicks a tentacle out and grabs Dust with it by the neck, lifting him slightly off the ground.

**_“Life’s not fair.”_ **

Dust chokes and gurgles, hands reflexively clawing at the tentacle wrapped around his cervical vertebrae as Nightmare casually walks him back to the throne and stops a few feet away from where Dream sits.

“... However, I _am_ willing to give you a chance to redeem yourself.” Nightmare adds with faux sympathy. “There’s something I need to know…”

The air in the room is tense as Nightmare turns back to Dust and allows his tentacle to bring him not inches away from the dark skeleton’s face.

“ _What is the greatest amount of pain a skeleton can experience?”_

Dust’s gurgling turns frantic while Axe and Killer cringe. His red-ringed eye lights widen in panic.

Nightmare only tsks. “Don’t be immature. You’re valuable, I won’t do anything… _permanent._ I simply need to test something…”

Another of Nightmare’s tentacles lift up Dust’s shirt, and Nightmare wraps his hand around the bottom-most floating rib, instructing Dust to “Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten.”

Then Nightmare _breaks_ the rib off, allowing it to turn to dust in his hand. He lets the granules slip between his goopy phalanges.

There’s marrow leaking from the corner of Dust’s grin, his eye lights the size of pin pricks. “Oops,” Nightmare croons, “It appears I’ve made you uneven. Let’s fix that.”

_**He does it again**. _

Dust is heavily leaking marrow from his ribs, so Nightmare drops him. Dust gasps for air, the sound almost sob-like in quality.

“There now, tell me. Does the pain just eat you up inside? Does it consume all your thoughts?” Nightmare is curious. Dust only continues gasping, _slowly_ picking himself up off of the ground to hold his ribs and limp back to where Axe and Killer stand.

“Well, go on.” Nightmare watches blandly, “Answer me.”

“... yeah, boss.” Only resignation and bitterness remain in Dust's voice.

“Fantastic…” Nightmare turns to his _brother_. “I’ve read that leg bones are the most painful when they break. And…” The dark skeleton draws closer to his golden counterpart, squatting. “... Achilles tendons are especially receptive to pain. Cutting them renders one unable to walk.”

The captive monster can only watch in horror as Nightmare uses two tentacles and wraps them around Dream’s fibulas, where the tendons in question would be.

**AND NIGHTMARE SNAPS THEM**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> summary: nightmare explains that he wants to find out the most possible pain a skeleton can experience, and ends up snapping off two of dust's ribs. he lets him go then turns to dream and talks about how painful achilles heels can be... then break's dream's fibula's where he would have them.  
> __  
> somebody said they were worried for dust...?  
> __  
> if you'll notice, i updated the /? to /12. which means i have a loose outline for the rest of this fic!
> 
> that's the most news for now... i'd like to remind everybody that this is not a nice fic! and nightmare is in no shape or form a nice guy!
> 
> like at all.
> 
> that said,,, hope you enjoyed this chapter!! leave a comment if you enjoyed or wanna chat!! stay healthy and safe!!

**Author's Note:**

> ;-;
> 
> this is gonna be sad ngl
> 
> wanted to write these boys and ended up making a monster so that's the april 2020 mood.
> 
> [here's my tumblr, @beanniebenn](https://beanniebenn.tumblr.com/)
> 
> leave a comment if you'd like! :)


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